


Incoming Call

by rubywallace25



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, HIV/AIDS, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:20:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29179362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubywallace25/pseuds/rubywallace25
Summary: This is desdicated to the wonderful @aqua_myosotis_scorpioides text fic series PB to J parts 1 & 2.I encourage everyone to read it.This is an AU set today in the UKRory is Marlene McKinnon's older brother.M-Marlene.R-Rory.
Relationships: Amycus Carrow/Original Male Character(s), Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes
Comments: 38
Kudos: 50





	1. Marlene

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aqua_myosotis_scorpioides](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aqua_myosotis_scorpioides/gifts).



***incoming call from YOURONLYSlSISTER***

R-To what do I owe this delight?

M-What so I need an excuse to call you?

R-You do on at 4 on a Wednesday afternoon. Shouldn't you still be drunk, or in the SU or at a lecture.

M-Who says I'm not doing at least one of those things?

R-Well, you're seem too coherent to be drunk. There's no crapy softboy indie soundtrack in the background. I think you're student-ing wrong.

M-Ouch.

R-What do you want?

M-When did you first know that you were gay?

R-Marlene, you came out when you were eleven. We were all there, it was Dad's fiftieth.

M-No I'm not asking about me, I want to know about you.

R-Have you ever used polenta?

M-Don't change the subject.

R-I'm not. I just wanted to try something different, Amycus has been making noises about my cooking being bland, and I thought maybe polenta might spice it up.

M-Are you sure he wasn't referring to your sex life, and isn't polenta the blandest of the bland?

R-Actually, now he's finished his book we're back to three times a week. With a rolling 'Netflix and Chill' option on a Sunday.

M-Oh my God, you have no idea how married you sound. Are you in the supermarket right now?

R-No I only exist when you call me. And yes, I'm in Aldi, trying to avoid a deadline.  
Have you seen the film Titanic, I was watching that bit when Leonard DiCaprio is drawing Kate Winslet naked, and I realised that I was more turned on by Leo brushing his hair out of his eyes than I was by Kate's tits.

M-You do have a thing for blondes.

R-Anyway, shortly after that Amycus kept trying to shove his tongue down my throat after Warhammer every Saturday afternoon, and I didn't stop him, so it sort of clicked.

M-I forgot what a frighteningly long time you two have been together.

R-Fifteen years, last month. I definitely would have done less time for murder. Especially if Amycus had been the one I killed.

M-He never does anything with us.

R-It's complicated. He thinks Mum and Dad are decadent old hippies, which they basically are.

M-He's a homophobe which is a bit rich considering ...

R-Can we not do this now. It's his career. We enjoy a very nice lifestyle of the back of all that hate speech he spews.

M-You are such a fucking hypocrite.

R-And I love you very much too. So, get on with it, as much as I enjoy picking at festering wounds, you called me about something else.

M-Alright, so it's Dorcus.

R-Is that the possessive girl?

M-What? No, why did you call her that? She's not possessive.

R-Hummmm.

M-Don't hummm me, you sound like Mum.

R-Hummmm.

M-I think she likes me.

R-I would have thought that was pretty obvious.

M-WHAT!

R-Oh come on, do you remember when Amycus came to do that talk at your Uni, about the 'ineffectual left-wing' and we took the two of you out to dinner, she was the only one of your friends that wasn't repulsed by the idea of sitting in a restaurant with him.  
She was there because of you Marly. I could tell she hated every moment of it, why do you think I bought so many bottles of wine for the bloody table.  
And since you're desperate for my opinion, I like her. She seems like a nice fit for you.

M-What does that mean?

R-Never tell him I said this, but although I expect to grow very old and grey and grumpy with Amycus, we don't really click. I write about saving the environment, while he'd like very much to be the next Oswald Mosely and the truth is if we'd never met when we did I doubt we'd still be together, but we did and we are.  
Dorcus suits you now.

M-I think that's the most brotherly thing you've ever said to me.

R-Aldi clearly brings it out in me.  
My advice would be not to play games, don't be your usual commitment phobic self and tell her you like her back. Remember you're the big grown-up lesbian in this situation.  
Now if there's nothing else you need, I have to soak this polenta for 3 hours according to the packet.

M-Oh saucy.

R-Tomatoes fuck, I forgot the tomatoes.

***Call Ended***


	2. 2011

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This conversation takes place in 2011.
> 
> Rory and Amycus are at different Universities.
> 
> R-Rory.
> 
> A-Amycus.
> 
> Trigger warnings-mentions of HIV
> 
> Remember read @aqua_myosotis_scorpioides PB to J series because it is the best thing ever.

***Incoming Call MCKINNON***

A-No Narcissa put that back, yes McKinnon, what?

R-You're not on you own, I'll, I'll call back, I'll call back later.

A-It's only Narcissa, we're just having a few differing opinions on the Third Reich for this bloody presentation. I'll just tell her to piss off.

Narcissa piss off. There she's gone.

R-I'm sorry. I've fucked everything up and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

A-McKinnon are you crying?

R-I can't...

A-McKinnon, what the fucks wrong, I feel as if I should call a suicide prevention helpline or at least your ineffectual parents.

R-My Mum's here.

***breathy sobbing****

R-I'm sorry, I love you. I do love you.

A-Rory.

R-I've got HIV.

***loud sobbing***

A-No you don't.

R-Yes, yes I do. I wasn't, I haven't been well,

A-You haven't been well, when haven't you been well?

R-It was, I thought I was depressed after we broke up. I wasn't really looking after myself.

A-We're back together now.

R-I went to see the doctor on campus and she suggested that I should get a test. So, I've had the test and it's come back positive and,

A-Did you fucking cheat on me?

R-No, I no. No. Never. We weren't together, it was after we broke up, it was one stupid night. I,

A-Are you dying? Because if you're dying I think it's a bit shitty that you haven't driven down here to tell me in person.

R-I'm not dying, Amycus.

***audiable sigh***

A-Are you certain, I feel as if we need a second opinion. I don't trust your judgement, McKinnon.

***faint laughter***

R-I'm not going to die. But I am sorry. I'm sorry I've fucked everything up for us. 

A-Was it a hipster?

R-What?

A-Did you cheat on me with some suspenders wearing, ukulele plucking hipster?

R-I didn't cheat on you. And I may have met him at that cider bar in town but,

A-Ha! You've got a type.

R-You're might type.  
You were my type.

A-Were, so you're dumping me over the phone again?

R-Amycus be sensible,

A-We will discuss it next weekend when you come down to see me.

R-Amycus.

A-Yes, McKinnon?

R-I do love you.

A-I know.


	3. Warhammer

The first time he sees the boy with the pale skin and the long face, and the large brown eyes is quite by accident.

He's standing in the shopping centre with his hands in his pockets, mentally kicking his heels as he waits for his Mum and younger sister.

They've gone to buy bras or shoes or something equally feminine and disgusting.

He's studying himself in the polished glass of a nearby window, whe he suddenly spots someone looking at him from the other side.

He stares at the boy.

And the boy stares back.

Something odd happens then, he feels a tug from somewhere deep inside, and all he wants to be is closer to the boy.

So he steps inside the shop, pulling the door instead of pushing it, and feeling ridiculously nervous.

The interior of the shop smells like paint, glue and prepubescent boys.

From the walls hang pictures of castles, and trolls, and it slowly dawns on him that he has wandered into some weird alternative universe.

Every now and then he steals a glance towards the dark haired boy who is now apparently glueing something to the fortifications to notice him.

But as he steps towards the counter, he catches the reflection of the boy's face in the till, and realises that he's looking at him.

"What's this?" He address the slightly older teenage boy standing behind the till, gesturing to his surroundings.

"Warhammer." The boy shrugs back.

Warhammer looks like utter shit, but that boy, that boy is interesting.

He saunters towards him and enjoys how wide his eyes grow in surprise.

He stops in front of the boy, and with no idea of what else to do, he decides to introduce himself there and then.

"I'm Amycus Carrow."

The boy stares at him and mumbles.

"McKinnon." The boy stumbles over his words.

"That's a horrible name, McKinnon." Amycus grins at him.

"Rory, I'm Rory." Rory continues.

But it's too late, Amycus will never think of him as anything other than McKinnon.


	4. I Was Blinded By The Light pt.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set around 2013, but I'm terrible at maths.

"Why do I have the feeling that you've brought me here to kill me?" Rory asks, as he slips the keys out of the ignition.

The world outside his cosy, battered bottle green mini is pitch black and impenetrable.

"One day, McKinnon." Amycus says, as he sits grining at his side in the passenger seat.

In his lap Amycus rests a digital camera, which he has been fiddling with since he got in the car.

Rory knows him well enough to know that he still hasn't worked out how to use said camera, but he's too proud to say anything.

"I think it would be better for your final mark if you let me handle this." He says with an indulgent little huff as he pulls the camera from Amycus' grasp.

Turning on the small light above the dashboard, Rory studies the device, which appears to be fairly simple to use, and has a sticker, which says PROPERTY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD stamped across it.

He hears the snap of a seat belt being undone, and the next thing he knows Amycus is kissing the side of his mouth.

Rory slowly give into the pressure of Amycus' lips until they are properly kissing.

Their tongues slide together, and he feels the pressure of Amycus' fingers against the side of his face.

The windows quickly steam up.

This isn't the first time that they have snogged like teenagers.

No the first time had been when they'd actually been teenagers, and Rory had passed his driving test first.

His Mum and Dad had gifted him his precious bottle green mini, which had belonged to his older brother.

He use to drive them down to the coast where he'd pull up on some quiet country road and shag in the back.

He thought that one day he might get tired of Amycus, he'd seen his brothers go through their fair share of romantic partners, but he will never get tired of this.

The feeling of Amycus' body against his own, his touch, his smell, everything that make him so perfectly imperfect.

It's taken them a long time to get back to this place, since Rory's diagnosis.

But it's been oddly easy.

He takes one pill a day and they never have sex anymore without a condom, and if either of them get a blowjob then it's usually Amycus, but other than that, they have fitted so well into their new version of normal that it's hard sometimes to remember how it used to be.

Amycus' mobile bursts into life and abruptly pops their lust filled bubble.

"Fuck off." He hears, Amycus groan as he pulls away.

Rory leans the back of his head into seat, as he eyes the man at his side.

His lips feel swollen, while he feels unbelievably hard and desperate.

"It's Narcissa, she wants to know where we are." Amycus says, as he turns the screen towards him, but Rory struggles to read the text without his glasses.

Narcissa Black has been a staple of Amycus' University life, ever since he had a life at University.

An over entitled blonde with large almost cartoonish grey eyes, and the possessor of an odd mercurial personality, excluding Rory, she is probably Amycus' best friend.

"You let her go on her own?" Rory asks, as he thinks of his younger sister Marlene being left stranded in some derelict house on her own.

"No, what do you take me for, Malfoy is with her."

The mood inside the cramped car shifts.

He doesn't like Lucius Malfoy.

Whereas Narcissa has a dry wit that takes a while to get use to, Malfoy is dull, useless and offensive.

It doesn't help that he always looks at Rory as if it's possible to catch HIV by just being in the same room.

Other than Narcissa, Rory doesn't like any of Amycus' University friends, which is one of the only reasons why he thinks going to a completely different University, Durham, in his case, has actually been good for their relationship.

So they'd both had a wobble at the start, but now, almost three years on, they're making it work.

"We better go and meet her, I don't trust Malfoy not to run off and leave her." Rory says with a little sigh as turns off the light and contemplates actually having to get out of the car.

"Can't we just stay here and fuck?" Amycus asks with a hopeful note in his voice.

"I thought that you're dissertation was meant to be a study on fear not fucking?" Rory muses.

He feels Amycus' hand slide into his own.

"Are the two mutually exclusive?" Amycus says, as he lifts Rory's hand to his lips and plants a kiss against his skin.

"Humm, how about get off." Rory chuckles as he playfully pulls his hand away, unclicks his seat belt and climbs out of the car before Amycus has a chance to pull him back in.

The moment he steps out of the car he feels as if he has made a terrible mistake.

The night is so cold that he's already shivering inside his coat, hat and gloves.

It also doesn't help that there's an eerie fog swirling around his ankles.

He hears Amycus whistling a few bars from Manfred Mann's Blinded by the Light, which is the only thing he has ever heard him whistle.

"Let's go ghost hunting."

When they find Narcissa she looks completely at odds with her surroundings, clad in only the thinnest of Burberry trench coats and heels.

She is standing in front of an imposing high rusted gate, and unlike Rory she is not shivering and she is also alone.

"Sorry was there a group text I missed about this being a black tie event?" Amycus asks.

His wry grin caught briefly in the beam of his torch.

"Oh ha ha, I don't intend to be here that long, Lucius and I have dinner plans." Narcissa shoots back.

"Where is Malfoy?" Rory asks, as he glances around the overgrown tree line.

"Oh he was complaining of the cold, so I told him to wait in the car." Narcissa says without a moments hesitation.

Rory jumps slightly as Amycus suddenly throws back his head and laughs.

"He's such a bloody girl, I have no idea what you see in him."

At this point Rory has given up on trying to stop Amycus from using the words girl and gay as derogatory terms.

"Aren't you cold?" He decides to change the subject instead.

Narcissa fixes him with an unreadable stare.

"Blacks don't succumb to things like the cold. Besides I haven't been able to feel anything from the neck down in years. Congenital nerve damage or something."

"Inbreeding." Amycus clarifies.

Narcissa shrugs.

From the little Rory knows about her family they all sound absolutely awful and deranged especially her annoying younger cousins, who both sound spoilt beyond belief.

Still, The Blacks don't compare to Amycus' social climbing Mother and emo younger sister.

Or perhaps they do, it's just Rory's not going to spend the rest of his life shackled to a Black.

Amycus steps forward and gives the gates a shake.

The metal creeks and shakes, but holds firm before them.

"You do have a plan to get us in, right?" Rory asks, a note of concern slipping into his voice, because Amycus is not the world's best planner.

"Well, it's a good job one of us thought ahead." She elbows Amycus out of the way and from the pocket of her coat she produces a key.

"My sister is shagging the owner." She says, as she slips the key into the lock of the rusty gate and the whole thing gives way.

Rory lifts his torch and catches the edge of a far off brick building.

"Welcome to Riddle House." Narcissa says in a horrible flat tone as the three of them step over the threshold of the gate at the same time.


	5. The Bathtimes 2019

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Aqua_myosotis_scorpioides

"I think this one is my favourite, 'Amycus Carrow is the answer to a question no-one asked'. I think we should frame that, put it up next to the naked painting of you in the kitchen." Amycus chuckles to himself as he casually scrolls through the hate blowing up his Twitter feed.

For once Rory is glad that he's forgotten his glasses, having left them on his bedside table.

He makes a faint non-committal noise from the back of his throat and reaches out for his glass of wine that sits at his elbow on the edge of the bath.

"Listen to this," Amycus says, craining his head backwards to check that he has Rory's attention.

But he always has Rory's attention since he dare not leave Amycus alone in a room without him managing to insight a riot.

"I wish you wouldn't do that, what happened to us having a relaxing evening?" He says, before draining the last of his glass and letting it rest back on the edge of the bath.

He notices how the heat of the water has turned Amycus' cheeks pink, and he can't stop himself from angling his head so that he can capture his lips.

It's always been like this, the feeling that he can't stop himself from being close to Amycus.

As if they're too magnets drawn together, never to be pulled apart, however hard they might try.

He feels the familiar slide of Amycus' tongue inside his mouth, and he's not sure if they've ever actually been good at kissing.

Objectively they're probably terrible, since well Amycus has only ever kissed him, and he's only kissed one other person.

He can't remember that, because he'd been drunk and miserable and heartbroken, and thinking about that night and everything that followed just hurts too much.

So no, if someone was to walk into the bathroom and rate their kiss they'd probably get a 4 out of 10, but what the fuck do they know, and why are they wandering into other peoples bathrooms anyway?

To him at least kissing Amycus is always a 10.

"Do you want to combine my two favourite things?" Amycus asks, once the kissing as subsided.

"Electrocution and bathwater?" Rory asks, as Amycus leans his head back into the crook of his neck.

They're lying together, with Amycus resting against his chest, in what Marlene calls their 'ridiculously large' bath.

To be fair she does have a point, since the bath is a claw footed, reclaimed Victorian behemoth.

"Ha, ha, have you had some sense of humour upgrade that I'm yet to be informed of? No, I want you to fuck me, while I read about how much people hate me." Amycus admits with a wide unapologetic grin that Rory can't help but love.

"Do you ever think you might have a bit of a problem?" Rory asks against the side of Amycus' warm and sweaty head.

"Stop talking McKinnon and get inside me." Amycus demands.

The viral load in Rory's body is so low now that they can finally have unprotected sex again.

Still they've only been doing it this way for a couple of months and he still feels a jolt in the pit of his stomach at the suggestion.

"Are you sure?" He always asks the same question.

"Absofuckinglutely. Besides I don't want to get up. I gave myself a good fingering before you got in, so you should just be able to slip in." Amycus says in his matter-of-fact manner, as he starts to scroll through the feed on his ipad again.

"You really know how to seduce a bloke with your words." Rory says as he plants an indulgent kiss against his head.

Amycus actually has done a good job at 'fingering' himself so that Rory is able to enter him in one smooth, fluid motion, the water also helps.

"Fuck McKinnon, that's it." Amycus practically purs.

Rory closes his eyes and let's the heat of the water combined with the heat of Amycus' body wash over him.

He let's Amycus set the pace, as he peppers the back of his neck with kisses and the odd playful nip.

"Amycus Carrow is the world's only gay homophobe. S-surely," He falters over his words as Rory manages to his his prostate.

"Surely, that can't be true, I mean what about Clarkson?"

"For the last time Jeremy Clarkson isn't gay. Any way, do you fancy him or something?" Rory digs his teeth into the side of his neck determined to leave a mark for everyone to see.

"That fat old fuck. I'm pathetic, it's you or nothing."

Rory finds his lips again.

"This is no good, I need more." Amycus announces abruptly.

Rory hears the clatter of the IPad hitting the tiled floor.

But before he has the chance to register this Amycus is suddenly straddling him, and impaling himself on his cock all over again.

"That's better."


	6. Tired Not Tired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am very anti hunt.

Amycus can't sleep.

The expanse of perfectly crisp bedding next to him is too wide and painfully empty.

He hasn't properly slept alone since he was twenty-one.

And he can't, he can't close his eyes, he can't drift off into oblivious peace without the familiar warmth next to him.

He reaches for his phone, and scrolls through the collection of images that clutter his album.

The first one is of Rory, who is trying to cover his face, but the outline of his smile is caught between his fingers.

The next one is of Rory as well, and the next and the next and the next.

Looking windblown and interesting on the top of a hillside, on some day that Amycus can't quite remember when they'd taken his Mother's yapping, annoyance of a dog out for a walk.

Rory eating toast.

Rory smiling into the lens as he holds up the bawling bundle that is his brand new baby niece.

The McKinnons are prolific breeders, and clutching a baby in his arms looks good on him.

The last image on the role is of Rory fast asleep.

Amycus' soul aches for him.

Every fibre of his body longs to touch him, to hear his voice, to smell his skin.

He gives in and calls him.

Rory has been staring at the blank subject line of his unwritten email for fifteen minutes when the phone at his elbow explodes into life and he sees Amycus' face gazing back up at him.

"How did you get this number?" He says, an irresistible smile forming over his lips at the sound of Amycus' half laugh rasping down the line.

"I'm trying to reach a Roy McKinner, I heard he fucks lobsters for loose change."

"Ah Roy he's otherwise engaged at the moment, will I do? I'll bugger a morally corrupt television personality for a tenner."

It's ridiculous just how much Rory misses him, and how long he has stayed behind at work to avoid going home to their empty house.

"You'll do, I suppose." Amycus says.

He spins around in his chair turning his back on his computer to take in the view of London at night, which glimmers through the long window in his small chunk of office.

"It's a bit late for you to be calling me isn't it?" He asks, changing the subject.

"It's three in the morning and I can't sleep. Where are you?" Amycus asks.

"I'm still in the office, I thought I'd get a jump on this article." He lies, because he's actually suffering from terrible writer's block.

"I miss you too." Amycus says, and despite the fact that they're both proper grown-ups and have been together for well over a decade, his heart still does a little leap at this.

"I wish you were here, I'd at least have something to do to while away the hours."

"Well, it really does something to me to be compared to a sleep aid or the soothing effects of travel scrabble" As he says this Rory catches sight of his reflection in the black mirror of the window and for the briefest of moments he thinks the phone that he's holding against the side of his head as been replaced with a magic wand.

"Fuck off, since when has scrabble ever been soothing!" Amycus' bark, causes the wand to turn back into a phone.

Rory's tired eyes ache from behind his glasses.

"Do you remember that time when I was still at the Telegraph and you came for a job interview and we tried to pretend that we didn't know each other? Jesus that was hot."

He does remember it, but at the time he'd been too nervous to take anything in, even Amycus.

"Why did we decide to do that again? I mean, you had a massive photograph of me on your desk, and well, I'd met most of your colleagues. Also I'm pretty sure the reason why I didn't get the role was because you insisted in showing me out, but instead got me to give you a sneaky blow job in the loo."

Not that Rory had really needed much in the way of persuading since he is always more than happy to get on his knees for Amycus.

"Keep telling yourself that." He can hear the familiar mirth filled note in Amycus' voice even though no-one else would ever be able to tell.

Just him.

Because they know each other better than anyone.

"What would you do to me if I was there?" He asks with a playful grin.

"What would you do to me if I was there?"

Amycus breath catches in his throat, and his right hand, which had absentmindedly been stroking his cock as he listened to Rory, stills.

"Well, you are familiar with my stance on unadventurous hotel room sex."

"Hmmmm, if there's the prospect of a hidden camera, then it's vanilla all the way. Which I've never understood really, since, would you really want the world to think that our sex life is the missionary position?" Rory replies with a chuckle.

Amycus considers this for a moment and as he does so, he begins to touch himself again.

"Do you want them to know the alternative, McKinnon?" He asks, and he can practically feel the warmth of Rory's blush radiating down the line.

"I'd open you up with my tongue." He says, and he hears Rory splutter.

Lazily his hand slides over his cock, using the pre-cum leaking from the tip as a poor man's lubrication.

"McKinnon." He loves the sound of Rory's name between his teeth.

"Y-yes, yes." Rory replies in a flustered tone.

"Are you sitting at your desk touching yourself?"

The image of Rory sitting in his bland glass box wanking himself senseless does something ridiculous to Amycus.

"No, I'm at work. That would be incredibly unprofessional."

"You fucking liar." Amycus throws back his head and roars with laughter.

"Since we're being vanilla, and you're not having a wank." The joy of teasing Rory is something that will never leave him.

"I'd want you to ride my cock. I have no idea why you're so fucking terrible on a horse, when you're such an expert in the saddle."

As the words leave his mouth his caught by the memory of the last time Rory had been on a horse.

It had been after he had persuaded him to join the annual hunt, and how they'd eventually left everyone else behind, so that Amycus could fuck him against a tree in their hunting pinks.

What an absolutely wonderful day, and the combination of his favourite things.

Banging Rory McKinnon's brains out, and hunting disgusting feral vermine.

He's blissfully close to the edge now, chasing his orgasm as he speeds up his hand.

He hears those beautiful strains in Rory's voice.

They're not really saying anything now, it's all degenerated into harsh breathing and the odd occasional groan as they each get off on their separate memories of the other.

He hears Rory cum, despite the fact that he's not wanking at his desk.

That's enough to tip him over the edge, the sound of Rory's strained cry and suddenly he's coming all over his hand as if he's a teenager all over again.

He collapses back in the cool embrace of his twisted sheets, as he listens to Rory trying to catch his breath.

They breathe together in and out.

"Get in the shower." Rory manages to say once he's recovered himself.

"Go home, McKinnon." Amycus tells him back with all the warmth that he can muster.

The call ends.


	7. The Bank Holiday

"Have you seen my jacket," Rory asks as he wanders out of the bathroom in a cloud of cedar and bergamot, and with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

", you know the one that makes me look an absolutely terrifying amount like my Dad? I thought I might piss of your Mum by wearing my most ratty jumper underneath it and," He stops mid sentence because Amycus isn't joining in the way he usually does.

Ordinarily he would make some quip about all of Rory's jumpers being ratty, but instead of that he's just sat on the edge of their bed staring off into space.

"Is everything alright?" He asks casually, trying to keep his voice as conversational as possible.

Despite this however he can't help but hope that there's been a last minute change of plans and that their not about to spend the weekend murdering pheasants on The Carrow Estate.

Not that he ever joins in with the shoot, no he settles himself in the well stocked library and drinks himself through the family collection of vintage whisky, while Amycus gets his murder on.

And as much as Rory dislikes the bank holiday weekend, he knows how much Amycus looks forward to it every year, when his parents pretend to be a couple and The Carrows a proper family.

"He's dead." Amycus whispers so lightly, that it takes a moment for Rory to understand what he is saying.

His lips move to form a sentence in reply, but suddenly Amycus is crying.

It's been a very long time since Rory last saw him cry, and it's never, ever been like this before.

Instantly he's on the bed next to Amycus, who has his hands over his face, as he cries and cries and cries.

"Who, who is dead, love?" He drapes one arm over Amycus' shoulders, concern thick in his voice.

"Dad." 

Rory is stunned.

Not because Mr Carrow has ever loomed particularly large in their life, in fact he can list off the handful of times that he's ever met him on both his hands.

But because, because, because...he doesn't know.

He feels as if he doesn't know anything.

"Oh Rory!" Amycus sobs out his name and wraps his arms so tightly around his neck.

He pulls himself so tight against him that for a moment it feels to Rory as if he's trying to climb inside his body, and perhaps he is.

Amycus' hot tears spill across Rory's pale shoulders and cause goosebumps to erupts across his naked skin.

"I've always hated him." Amycus muses, his eyes red, swollen and sore from too much crying.

They are lying side by side and face down upon the mattress staring at one another.

"I was never good enough, and it wasn't even because I enjoyed fucking you, it was me. It was just me, I was never good enough." Amycus exhales the words in a defeated sounding huff that hurts Rory to his core.

"That's not true." He says, and watches as Amycus shakes his head.

Rory rests his hand against his back.

"I love you." He tells him, pouring everything he has into the words in the hopes that he will believe him.

"I love you." He says it again.

Amycus nods.

"You won't leave me will you?" Amycus asks in a small, unsure sounding voice.

He looks like a boy again.

The twenty-seven year old man has disappeared and been replaced by the teenage boy that Rory first fell in love with.

"I will never leave you." Rory promises him with all his heart.

"I will never leave you."


	8. Rory McKinnon's Teenage Bedroom Timewarp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for suicidal thoughts.

For one brief, beautiful moment it feels as if they are one person.

Inside and out.

They breathe together, their chests rising and falling, as the pressure between them builds.

He runs his hands over Amycus' face, resting his fingers against the smooth curve of his cheek.

Their eyes meet.

"I love you." He tells him over and over and over again, until his throat is raw.

He cums.

He cums in the same small bedroom that they lost their virginity in ten years earlier.

The walls are still covered with his old posters, which are full skinny, indie boys with guitars.

He's never had to hide his sexuality.

For as long as he can remember he's only ever liked boys, in the same way that his sister Marlene prefers girls.

No-one in his immediate family has ever cared.

When they'd first met, he had pickled the covers of his school text books with love hearts and Amycus' initials.

R M 💘 A C

His Mum and Dad never minded if Amycus spent the night in his bedroom.

So it was in this atmosphere that they had lost their virginity on one random Thursday evening in January, when they had both been sixteen and pretending to do their homework from their separate schools.

He had attended the local comprehensive, while Amycus had been a day pupil at Slytherin, an ancient fee paying establishment.

The uniform of Slytherin's had been his favourite shade of green.

It still is favourite shade of green.

He'd been worried that having sex with Amycus would somehow snap the invisible string that had kept them together, that all of the lust and all of the mutual fascination would slip away, but if anything the string got tighter, binding them together, forever.

Because whatever differences divide them, and at this point the list is ridiculously long, their desire for each other has never dimmed.

Will never dim.

Sometimes they are boys and sometimes they are young men, and sometimes they are old, and everything just gets blended into one, and the skin on the outside doesn't seem to matter as much as the warmth that beats within.

Amycus follows him, cuming in a punched out grunt.

And then they're lying together, with Amycus' head against his chest, as they both try not to fall out of the his single bed.

The used condom discarded in a nearby wastepaper bin.

"I like fucking you, McKinnon." Amycus says hotly against his skin.

He's not sure if he is aware, but that's the first thing he had said to him after their first time together.

I like fucking you, McKinnon.

"That's good to know." He smiles back, planting a kiss against Amycus' clammy forehead.

Amycus pulls him into a sloppy kiss, which is awkward due to the angle.

"How are you feeling?" What sort of question is that?

How are you feeling on the morning we're due to bury your Father?

Mrs Carrow, Amycus' Mother has put his Father's funeral together in such a rush of efficiency that he wonders if she's been waiting for this moment their entire married life.

"At this point I just want to see him in the ground." Amycus says.

They could have spent the night in one of the many empty rooms on The Carrow Estate, Amycus' room, but instead they're here, in his family home.

Just the two of them, because his parents are still on holiday in Greece, cruising around the Mediterranean.

"Do you want some breakfast?" He asks, changing the subject.

When it comes to The Carrows he finds it best, and easiest just to change the subject.

He belongs to Amycus, but apart from that no-one has ever bothered to integrate him into the rest of the family.

At first he thought it was a homophobic thing, but now he knows that it's more insidious than that.

That the root of the problem is that however successful his family are they will never match up to the high standards that The Carrows measure the rest of the world against.

He has the feeling that if Amycus died he would not be extend an invitation to his funeral.

Not that he'd need one.

Because if Amycus died then...

A wave of guilt washes over at the thought of killing himself.

Today is not his day.

His parents, his family would never forgive him.

He hasn't felt this fucking maudlin for such a long time that his depression has taken him by surprise.

He hasn't thought about killing himself in a while, so that he's almost forgotten how oddly normal self destruction used to feel.

He doesn't have a goal.

He doesn't want to die.

He just...

He likes his life, his house, his job, his family and Amycus, most of all he loves Amycus.

But there's also a large part of him who wants to walk out in front of the train just as it's coming into the station.

That's why he always stands at the back against the wall, when he's down in The Underground, just in case the temptation is ever that little bit too much.

"We didn't bring any food with us." Amycus points out.

That's right, they'd just packed up the hire car and torn down the motorway.

They'd shared a curry from the local India takeaway, which had tasted better in his memory than real life and after that they'd spent the rest of the evening having sex in a wide variety of positions that varied in levels of ambition and difficulty.

Basically it was their average Sunday, however instead of work on Monday morning, a funeral is waiting for them.

"You're so fucking bony McKinnon, I swear that this is some form of torture." Amycus observes, before sliding his tongue into the space beneath his ear.

"Get off me then." He tells him with a wide grin.

Amycus lifts his head, his face hovering over his own.

"Let's not be hasty." Amycus laughs.

Amycus looks ridiculously handsome as he slams the passenger door of their hired Mercedes.

At least Rory thinks that he does in his severe tailored suit in funeral black  
and Raybans.

Although they both have valid licences, they don't own a car in London, because who in their right mind does?

He tugs the front of his jacket into place before reaching for Rory's hand.

And they hold hands as they make their way up the gravel drive towards the imposing outline of a Georgian Manor House in honey coloured Bath stone.

Narcissa is smoking a cigarette, and looking impossibly glamorous as she stands talking to an overweight man in a expensive, yet poorly fitting suit.

It feels like a lifetime ago since they last saw her on the occasion of her wedding to her rubbish boyfriend Lucius Malfoy.

Well Rory's always thought that Malfoy was rubbish, he's not so sure about Amycus, who let's go of his hand to embrace Narcissa who plants an air kiss on both his cheeks.

"Rory." And then it's his turn to be pulled into the fragile circle of Narcissa's arms.

She smells like roses and nicotine.

"This is my brother-in-law, Rodolphus. " Narcissa says, as she points to the overweight man, who is also smoking.

"Hello." Rodolphus replies in an unassuming voice.

There had been some sort if schism in Narcissa's family, one of her sister's, not the properly mad one Bella, but the other one that he's never met, she'd gone off and married someone who hadn't been on the approved list.

But to be honest Rodolphus doesn't seem too bad.

"Where's your husband?" Amycus addresses Narcissa without ever acknowledging Rodolphus' existence.

"The last time I saw him he was escorting his Mother inside, so fingers crossed her hip doesn't break again, and we're not stuck in A&E for 40 bloody hours."

She takes a drag of her cigarette.

He can tell that Amycus wants to be anywhere, but where they're standing, and he finds his hand again.

Rory catches sight of Rodolphus' small piggie gaze widen at the sight of their public display of affection.


	9. The Carrows Aren't Big Huggers

Without a doubt this is the weirdest funeral that Rory has ever been to.

He is more comfortable with large Irish wakes that go hand in hand with his Mum's side of the family, but he has the sense that this funeral is a lot closer to a wedding.

He thinks that Amycus Mum is probably a lot happier at this event than she had been at her actual wedding.

There has never been any love lost between Amycus' parents, mainly because there was never any love.

With their glasses overflowing with vintage champagne, Mrs Carrow practically glows as she moves happily through her guests.

"So, what do you think you'll get?" Alecto asks, in a way that makes him feel horribly uncomfortable.

But everything about Amycus' younger sister makes Rory feel uncomfortable and he's almost certain that she is a sociopath.

Amycus has never given any hint of being aware of his sister's mental heath, but Rory thinks that he's probably a sociopath too, so perhaps he hasn't noticed.

He watches him watching Alecto with an indulgent smile.

"Absofuckinglutely nothing I expect." Amycus shrugs.

Despite this statement however, Amycus spent a fair amount of the journey from London describing the renovations he plans to make on his Father's flat in Holland Park.

He's got his hopes up, Rory can tell.

The hope that Mr Carrow had cared, even a little for his son.

And the fall that he knows is coming is going to be from such a height.

He wishes he could take it for him, he'd do anything to protect him.

Instinctively Rory rests his hand on his back and the space between his shoulder blades.

"What about me?" Is Alecto's next question.

"The same." Amycus says.

He steals a glance at Rory, who smiles back.

Mrs Carrow appears at her son's elbow.

She's a thin, attractive, middle aged woman with a shock of short cropped white hair.

Rory can feel her gaze resting uncomfortably upon him despite the fact that she's running a hand through Alecto's hair.

"I told you to get these split ends cut." Mrs Carrow says, finding fault with her daughter's appearance.

Alecto shrugs her off.

"I've been busy." The teenage girl replies, before pulling a strand of blonde hair into her mouth and sucking on the end.

Mrs Carrow doesn't seem to notice this as her attention has shifted towards Amycus.

Rory removes his hand.

Mrs Carrow smiles.

It appears as if she's on the point of saying something when an extremely rotund man with a large moustache waddles between them.

"Athena!" 

Rory feels elbowed out of the circle as the overweight man moves forward to embrace Mrs Carrow.

"Horace." She purs back.

Amycus catches his gaze and smirks.

"Shall we get this terrible business over with?" The man addresses Mrs Carrow over the crook of his arm for her to take.

Horace must be the family's solicitor here to read the will.

Rory watches as the room parts like the red sea around them, and Alecto follows radiating moodiness as she goes.

Amycus makes a move, but before he leaves Rory catches him by the forearm and holds him in place.

"It's alright, if things don't go the way you want them to. It will be alright." He tells him.

Rory glances down at his watch, and then remembers a second to late that he left it on his bedside table back in London.

His parents gave him that watch, and it's something of a McKinnon family tradition the gift of an expensive time piece of your twenty-first birthday.

His watch has stopped working, it needs a new battery and...and...and...

He rests his head against the sturdy doric columns of Amycus' family home, and takes a long drag on one of Narcissa's cigarettes.

There standing outside, overlooking the impressive sculpted grounds and smoking like a couple of chimneys.

"The grounds at Malfoy Manor are more impressive, although we don't have a lake." Narcissa says, as she pots off in the direction of the large body of black water.

He's not really listening, he's too busy thinking about Amycus.

He feels as if he's spent his entire adult life, thus far, being worried about Amycus.

"I've decided to set up a guillotine in the middle of the lawn, where I can decapitate trades people if they offend me."

This he hears.

"I know that you're just talking a lot of general bullshit, but why does that seem frighteningly realistic?" He asks.

Her large eyes sparkle with mirth as she laughs.

"You two are hopelessly awful you know." She says, as she taps the ash from her cigarette.

"When we were at University, Amycus and I," She begins.

"...he always used to be in such a terrible mood on a Monday, after you left, or he came back from yours. I use to take him out, and I incurred some serious debt trying to cheer him up, or find someone for him to shag. But nothing. He'd be like a bear with a sore head until Wednesday, and then it was all downhill until he saw you again."

Rory knows the feeling, although he keeps this to himself.

"I honestly, think those three years he spent at University were some of the worst of his life simply because he didn't have constant access to you. Or more specifically your penis." Her laughter rings through the air like the peel of some exquisite bell.

Everything about Narcissa is beguiling and exquisite.

"Not my personality then?"

She appears to think about this for a moment.

"Do you have much of a personality, Rory?" She asks him with a wide smile.

Rory gives this a fair amount of consideration before responding.

"No, I see your point."

"So this is what it feels like to be disinherited." Amycus says, as he drums his fingers over the polished mahogany of the long wooden table before him.

Horace Slughorn the family's solicitor is sitting at the head of the table.

While Amycus, his Mother and Alecto are all sat on one side of the table, and his older brother Aris, and his wife Cordelia.

Although only in his mid thirties, Aris seems to be aging rapidly into middle age with a receeding hairline and a gaunt appearance.

Amycus can't help if he's looking at the spectre of himself in around five years.

Cordelia had been a Bulstrode before her marriage, and she shares her family's propensity for a larger frame.

Her rich, chestnut locks curly around her shoulders in Kate Middleton style waves.

"Oh will you for once, stop being so melodramatic. You are aware of Father's stance on dividing up the estate. He never wanted us to go the same way as The Blacks or heaven forbid The Weasleys. It was always his plan that the estate would be entailed in it's entirety upon me, and that you, Alecto and Mother would be given a small allowance." Aris says in an exasperated tone of voice.

"Ah yes, The Weasleys, they use to own that beautiful house in Somerset, such a shame. I believe it's a hotel now." Mrs Carrow muses, as she rolls amber coloured liquid around the inside of her crystal cut whiskey tumbler.

"It's part of The Bulstrode Hotel chain." Cordelia says, as she speaks for the first time.

Mrs Carrow stops swirling the contents of her glass around and fixes her daughter-in-law with an appraising look.

"Thank you dear, for reminding us all that your family are hoteliers."

Amycus can see it then the long game that Cordelia and her family have been playing, and how ridiculously rich that both she and Aris are set to become.

It's all so clever that he wants to leave over and shake her perfectly manicured hand, but he holds back, because well fuck her. Fuck the pair of them.

"I think we've reached a satisfying conclusion, why don't you go and enjoy the buffet, Horace."

Slughorn makes a noise of absolute delight from the back of his throat, before wadding out of the room.

Aris and Cordelia are the next to leave.

And it's with a sulky sigh that Amycus pushes back his chair and slides out from behind his table.

But before he has a chance to leave his Mother reaches out and catches him by the wrist.

"Not you."

Alecto's gaze shifts between the pair, and for the first time Amycus thinks he sees her looking uncertain.

"Run along now darling, I want to talk to your brother. I'm sure he'll fill you in on anything he thinks that you need to know later." Their Mother tells her, and Amycus watches Alecto give him one cautious glance before exiting the room and closing the door behind her.

"You need to learn how to pick your battles." Mrs Carrow says, the moment Alecto is out of ear shot.

Amycus finds himself falling hopelessly back into his chair.

"So, your happy that, that pair of chinless wonders are going to sell this house up from underneath us?" 

He doesn't even know why he's so angry, but he had expected more.

Not the house, he doesn't even want the house.

A place so fast, expensive and crumbling would bury his relationship with Rory.

It destroyed his parents relationship.

He wants to feel valued, does he?

Is that what he wants?

To feel that is absent, emotionally abusive Father had valued him...

Fuck...what a snowflake.

"I wouldn't say that I was happy, but knowing that your brother is essentially ripping up your Father's beloved legacy, has given me something of a glow." As she says these words he notices that his Mother does appear to glow with bitterness.

Even now, now that it's all over, none of them can stop hating the man who should have been a husband, a Father.

"I didn't always hate him, your Father. But he had a way of squeezing the life out of people, a talent that you appear to have inherited my darling."

The image of his fingers digging into the pale flesh of Rory's throat as he fucks him, without mercy.

This thought is of course followed by the mild panic that his Mother might be able to read his mind.

"Yes well, I don't need to hear that Aris is your favourite child,"

"You are my favourite child." 

To say that Amycus is blindedsided by this revelation would be an understatement.

Part of him has long suspected that this might have been the case, however he never let himself believe it.

He doesn't know how to react or what to say, so instead she just stares at his Mother.

"Your brother was born out of a sense of duty, your Father required an heir. And your sister was an accident, but you. You my darling," He feels the pressure of her soft fingers against his cheek.

They have never had a tactile relationship, The Carrows are not big huggers.

"Does this mean that I can have the flat in Holland Park?" He asks with a playful smirk.

"Don't push your luck."


	10. An Engagement Like No Other

Rory is sitting in his office.

There was a time not so long ago when he'd been able to work in an actual office, and to go outside for more than once a day for his quick bit of exercise.

The confines of his word have shrunk to the walls of the home he has been locked inside with Amycus.

Being lockdown with Amycus hasn't been the nightmare that most would expect, in fact Rory has come to suspect that the other man is rather pleased by the fact that he can't go outside.

To finally have him where he's always wanted him.

But if only he knew the truth.

The fact that Rory is just as happy, there's nobody to get between them now.

Well mostly, because while he can't really leave due to his 'underlying health condition', Amycus still leaves their house every morning to go to work.

He's working now.

There's a version of Amycus smirking away behind him on the flat screen that is bolted to the wall.

Amycus Carrow the star of early morning television, neither of them could have imagined such a thing and yet here, here they are.

He barely recognises the Amycus that appears on the screen, and not just because of the thick layer of foundation and fake tan that he's wearing.

But also because it's 'Amycus Carrow' turned up to such an obnoxious level that even he finds it a little hard to stomach.

Currently he's on a rant about something that Rory has lost track of.

He continues to tap out his own livelihood barely paying any attention and then...

"Well as you're aware my fiancé Rory, is currently at home sheilding,"

Rory's glasses practically fall of his face in shock.

He scrambles for the remote control and in his haste he does actually fall of his chair.

His arse hits the floor with a thud, the remote control landing in his lap.

He hits rewind and this time watches as Amycus says the words.

"...my fiancé..."

My fiancé.

Since when?

Have they gotten engaged at some point without him knowing?

How?

And again when?

They've never talked about getting married.

In a way it feels as if they already are, married that is.

They've certainly been together long enough.

But still.

How can Amycus go around calling him his fiancé when he's never bloody bothered to go down on one knee and ask him.

Will the other McKinnons have seen this?

His parents?

His brothers and their assorted families?

Marlene?

Out of all of them the odd viewing habits of the University student put Marlene in the category of most likely to have seen it.

However she hates Amycus more than anyone else, and Rory doesn't think that she'll want to start her day with his face.

He's still sitting on the floor and hitting the rewind button to hear the sound of Amycus saying the word fiancé over and over and over again.

There are a handful of positives when it comes to lockdown.

Firstly having Rory Mckinnon essentially under house arrest is an interesting development.

Not having to engage people like his driver or various staff members in idle conversation.

Only seeing the other McKinnons through a screen.

And not having to see his own family at all.

No, Amycus definitely likes the like the little bubble that he shares with Rory 

And he is just thinking this as he closes the front door behind him.

Rory is waiting for him.

"So, when were you planning on sharing the news that we're suddenly engaged? Was I ever going to know? Or just get a text from you to turn up at some wedding venue at some point?" 

Amycus pulls his mask away from his face.

He wracks his brain to try and understand what Rory is talking about, but gives up.

"What the fuck are you talking about McKinnon?" He asks in an exasperated tone of voice.

He can't help but laugh as he sees the look of dismay that crosses the other man's face.

Amycus thinks that he looks adorable when he's grumpy.

"I'm talking about you announcing to your viewers that we're engaged, before you've even bothered to consult me." Rory says, as he flaps his hands in the air.

Rory always flaps his hands when he's annoyed.

"Stop getting your knickers in a twist, McKinnon. This is hardly new information, we've been engaged for two years." Amycus says.

He watches as Rory's ordinarily blanched face turns a shade paler. Deathly pale to be exact.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Rory replies, turning his words back on him.

He never swears outside the bedroom and Amycus finds it delicious to hear.

Fuck he's semi hard already.

"When we visited my Grandmother's estate in Spain and I asked you if you'd want to get married in a place like that, and you said yes." Amycus explains.

"Yes, yes!" Rory explodes.

"A general yes," He continues.

"...I was drunk, we were on holiday. No-one in their right mind would consider that a proposal."

He is fully hard now, and we would like nothing more that to force Rory down onto all fours before him and to have him right there and then in the hallway.

He's fucked him on that very same spot against the wall, and the stairs.

The stairs had been misjudged, one evening when they'd been as horny and drunk as they could possibly be.

It was an uncomfortable position and they'd never repeated it since.

Fucking against the wall in the hallway, however is a different story.

They can't now, because he has to get in the shower and decontaminate himself of the outside world before he can lay a finger on Rory.

"So?" He asks.

"So what?" Rory replies.

"Are we engaged?"

Are we engaged?


End file.
